The Numbers Game
by kitcat234
Summary: George seeks a little homework help from Hogwarts' resident swot. Written for the Twin Exchange's August Challenge. Prompt: Procrastinating, "Are you even listening?" and Hogwarts/Back to School.


**Author's Note: ** Written for the Twin Exchange's August Challenge. Prompt: Procrastinating, "Are you even listening?" and Hogwarts/Back to School. Please vote for me if you like it! Not Rowling.

PS: The main title is written according to the number scale in numerology (arithmancy).

.

.

.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from her favorite book, _Numerology and Grammatica_, her eyebrow already arched, knowing what Ron or Harry would ask. But it wasn't Ron, who was muttering curse words under his breath at one of the tables to her right, nor was it Harry, who was sitting across from Ron and glaring at his half-empty roll of parchment. It was George.

"Hello George," she said, surprised.

"Hermione, I was wondering if you could help me with my essay," he said, so quickly that all the words ran together.

"You're asking me for help? But I'm two years below you," she said, tilting her head slightly in confusion as she looked up at him.

"Well, I'm in Arithmancy and none of my friends took it, not even Fred, so I don't have anyone to work with. Plus, it's your favorite subject."

"It is. How'd you know?"

George smiled and pointed to the book in her hands.

"You're reading our textbook when I know you must have finished your essay at least a week ago."

"Three days ago, but close," said Hermione with a smile. "Sure, I'll see what I can do."

George smiled and, with a flick of his wand, a cushy armchair appeared next to her coveted spot by the fire. George sat down and started pulling his work out of his book bag.

"Oi!"

Hermione looked over to see Ron and Harry watching George unfurl his essay. A few of their fellow Gryffindors looked around, trying to see if there was anything interesting happening, but at the very common sight of Ron staring at Hermione, ink blots all over his nose, with a frazzled Harry, whose hair looked as if he had been electrified, next to him, they went back to their own business.

"What?"

"Why are you helping him? Why aren't you helping us?"

"You've had a week for that Potions essay. I told you that if you put it off to the night before, I wasn't going to help. You two brought this on yourselves," she called across the common room.

"Let me at least look over your essay!"

"I already turned it in."

Ron gave her a disbelieving look before grumbling at his barely-started essay, the words "unbelievable" and "know-it-all" clearly heard from across the room.

"Snape would never let you turn in an essay early," whispered George to Hermione.

Hermione looked at him and smiled mischievously. "What Ron doesn't know won't hurt him."

George grinned at her and was about to start talking about his essay when he was again interrupted.

"Come on, Hermione, help us out!" called Harry, squinting at her as his glasses slipped down his nose.

"No! I'm not helping you! You need to stop procrastinating! George didn't procrastinate, which is why I'm helping him."

"Actually, this is due tomorrow," George whispered.

"Shh! I'm trying to teach them a lesson," Hermione whispered back.

George grinned at her and she smiled back before ducking her head to read what he had written already.

"We have to write on the meaning of the number six and its importance in major wizarding texts. I already talked about most of the main points, but I wanted to make sure I'm not bungling it."

There was silence for about five minutes as Hermione read through his essay and George watched her. Suddenly, she spoke up.

"This is really well done, George."

"Why do you sound so surprised?" asked George, sounding highly offended and hurt.

Hermione fumbled for something to say, her cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment before she noticed his eyes were twinkling with mirth. She coughed and tried to go on with what she had been saying before.

"This is a lot better than I usually get when someone asks me for help. They usually have barely started."

"Well, I wanted to make sure the brightest witch I knew checked it over, because then I'm sure to get an O, what with my innate cleverness and such," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Well, then let's make sure you get that E."

Hermione missed the look George gave her when he caught on to her dig.

.

.

.

"You really shouldn't have left this until the last minute."

"But the rush is so exhilarating. You should try it sometime, Hermione."

He looked up from the parchment on which he was furiously writing and winked at her. Hermione half-smiled before going back to her book. They stayed like this for another hour or so, with George furiously editing and adding scraps of information while Hermione searched for helpful information in her Arithmancy textbook.

.

.

.

Two hours had gone by, and the common room was relatively empty. Most people had finished their homework or, like Ron and Harry, simply given up and gone to bed. Hermione and George were sitting at the vacated table, Hermione's eyes zooming over the seemingly endless paragraphs while George's eyes flicked between his essay and her face.

"This is really brilliant, George. You just have a couple places where it's a bit off. See, the six is representative of harmony, friendship, success in arts but failure in business, so-"

She looked up and saw George's eyes fixed on her face.

"Are you even listening?"

"You get the cutest little wrinkle when you're thinking. Right between your brows," he said, his fingers lightly tracing the spot on her forehead.

"You were not even listening, were you?"

"And your mouth tilts up to the right side when you're talking about something you like."

"That's fascinating," she said dryly. "Now, can we get back to _your essay_?"

"I certainly don't see why not," said George with a smile.

He looked back down at the essay as if he hadn't been the distraction moments before, and Hermione tried hard not to roll her eyes. She re-explained her point, and George started making corrections, but something was bothering her.

"See the issue is that-, wait, did you say it was cute?"

"What was cute?"

"The thing with my forehead or something."

"Yes. It's adorable," replied George nonchalantly, busy rereading a problematic sentence Hermione had pointed out. Hermione frowned, not sure what to think of this.

"You're doing it again," said George without even looking up.

Hermione started, now feeling hyper-conscious of what faces she was making.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. Now what were you saying about the character number?"

.

.

.

Another hour had passed. It was now one in the morning and they were both exhausted.

"I can't believe I stayed up to help you," Hermione mumbled as she rubbed the heel of her hands into her eyes. "I don't even do this for Ron and Harry unless it's something really important."

"And my N.E.W.T.s aren't important?"

"I never expected you to even stay for your seventh year, so I suppose they are."

George grinned. "I don't think anyone expected me to be here, besides my mum. And thank you, Hermione. I swear I'm almost done with this final draft for you to look over."

"You're just lucky you're cu-"

Hermione stopped herself when she realized what she had been saying and immediately flushed crimson.

"What was that?" asked George, his eyes bright and a highly amused smile playing on his lips.

"Nothing."

"You were going to say 'cute,' weren't you?"

"No, of course not."

"You were!"

"Was not."

"What were you saying then?"

"Errr…I was saying…'clever'."

"No, you definitely had a C-U word. Merlin's beard, does one Miss Hermione Granger think I'm cute?"

George fanned himself melodramatically with his hand and pretended to blush and swoon. Hermione swatted his hand and laughed despite herself.

"Oh just finish your work so we can both get to bed, George."

.

.

.

The next day, George caught up with Hermione as he was coming out of his Arithmancy class, which was the class before hers. She had been walking in, not noticing anybody as she was busy stuffing her book into her very full book bag, when someone had grabbed her by the crook of the arm and pulled her to the side, out of the way of the hallway's traffic.

"Wha-, oh, hello George," she said.

"I wanted to thank you again for helping me, Hermione. I guess Ron and Harry have the right idea, having a swot like you around," he said, grinning as he winked cheekily at her.

"You're welcome, George," she said with a smile. "Well, hopefully, you won't need my help again."

"But what if I want it?"

"Why would you want help from me? I am a bossy swot after all," she said, using his words.

"Maybe because I find bossy swots endearing and attractive."

He leaned forward, kissing her lightly on the cheek before turning and dashing away. Hermione stood there, stunned, her fingers pressed against the spot his lips had just been. She watched his bright red hair weaving through the hallway and, as the crowd cleared for a moment, he turned, grinning, his eyes catching hers, and winked before the crowd swallowed him whole.


End file.
